The Egg
by Danja
Summary: Edison is covering a missing Faberge Egg. CHAPTER SIX UP! R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

* * *

"It was no ordinary egg, Mr. Carter," said Agnes as she sat on the living room sofa. "It was a Faberge Egg, given to my great-great-grandmother by the czarina's niece."

Agnes Morgan was in her mid-sixties. She was slender and had short, graying white hair. Today, she wore a cream-colored business suit with a cobalt blue silk blouse.

_Interesting,_ Edison thought as he kept his camera trained on her.

"Morgan is my married name," said Agnes. "I was born Agnieszka Babikov. My grandparents were czar loyalists. They fled the Revolution."

"Tell me more," said Edison.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Ian did it!" Tom Morgan screamed into the cordless phone the next day. "I _KNEW_ it was a mistake to hire a damn Blank to mow the lawn!"

Tom Morgan (Agnes Morgan's former husband) was slender, in his late fifties. He had a wiry face and a mop of thinning light brown hair.

This day, he was pacing in the living room of his beachfront house.

"We're doing everything we can, Mr. Morgan," said the police detective on the other end of the line.

"I leave that kid five minutes alone with the safe … and my wife's Faberge Egg is gone!"

"This really isn't helpful, Mr. Morgan."

"Have I mentioned it's a three-million-credit egg studded with diamonds, pearls, and precious gems?"

"Several times now, Mr. Morgan," the detective replied dryly.

The doorbell rang. "It's open!" Tom shouted.

Belinda Warfield, Tom's mistress, walked in wearing a white tennis outfit and carrying a tennis racket. She was blonde, busty, athletic, and in her mid-thirties.

"Are we still on for tennis?" Belinda asked.

"I have to go," said Tom as he hung up the phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Theora sat cross-legged in bed, staring at the picture of Ian Stewart that was on her laptop computer before her.

Ian was the prime suspect in the Morgan Egg robbery. He was seventeen, thin, and had a lanky aspect about him. He had short, spiky dark hair and blue eyes.

_There's just something …_ OFF _… about all of this,_ Theora thought.

_He's not a hacker. At the very least, _BRYCE_ has never heard of him._

_Assuming he did it, how did he get into the safe? Did he memorize the combination? There's no evidence of forced entry ... so there was no butchering his way into it. _

_It's all too convenient._

"Max!" Theora called out to the room.

Max Headroom appeared on Theora's laptop. "Yeesss?" He cooed.

"Tell me about the Morgans' security system," Theora commanded. "Is there a camera on that safe?"

Max Headroom disappeared. In his place, an image of the Morgans' wall safe appeared.

_According to the police report, the Egg was stolen from _THAT_ safe, _Theora thought.

"Play back the most recent security footage."

Video of Tom Morgan opening the safe and removing a small leather case suddenly appeared onscreen.

"Stop," Theora commanded. The video froze

"Zoom in on that case."

An image of Tom's hand carrying the case filled the screen.

"Pull back a little," said Theora.

The video zoomed out to reveal the case, Tom's hand, and his forearm.

Theora made a few keystrokes and called up the police report. Agnes described the Egg as being approximately six inches tall.

"Is this the most recent footage?" Theora asked Max as she made a note of the video timestamp. _June Twelfth. Two days before Tom reported the Egg stolen._

"Y-yes, Th-th-Theora," Max replied. "Th-th-That's all I f-f-found found."

"Was anything deleted?" _If I were the prosecutor, I would be accusing Ian of being some super-hacker who had the power to remove incriminating security camera footage._

"N-nn-Not th-th-that that I-I-I'm-I'm a-a-aware-ware of-f-f," Max replied.

"Thanks."

* * *

The next morning, Theora's smartphone buzzed on her desk at Network 23.

She picked it up to find a text message from Nicky, a friend and confidential informant.

The message read: _Meet me 8__th__ and Harrison. Found Stewart._

_Ian Stewart? _Theora texted.

_Yeah _Nicky replied.

_Will do._ Theora texted. She then touched a button on her keyboard.

"Edison, I'm switching you to Harris," she said. "I just got a call from an informant."

"What about?" Edison inquired.

"It's about a story. I can't go into detail right now. He wants to meet me. I'll call you later with the details."

"Roger that," said Edison. "Keep me posted."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"He's in there," said Nicky as he pointed towards the derelict, decaying building. "He's in the basement."

"Thanks," said Theora said as she pulled a fifty-credit tube out of her purse and offered it to Nicky.

Nicky waved the credit tube away. "Whole neighborhood's worried about him," he said. "He's seventeen. He shouldn't be living in that basement!

"It's not safe!"

"I'll talk to him," said Theora.

"Ol' Lady Morgan loves that kid," said Nicky solemnly. "So much so she's asked her own personal lawyer to defend _HIM_.

"Imagine that ... the victim's own lawyer defending the perp!"

"Where did you hear this?" Theora asked.

"I've got sources inside the department," said Nicky. "Friends of mine."

_Mrs. Morgan wouldn't be doing this if she truly thought he was guilty,_ Theora thought.

* * *

"Ian! _IAN!_" Theora cried as she gingerly crept down the stairs that led into the basement.

She turned on the flashlight of her smartphone and shined it into the dark basement.

"Anyone here?" she asked the darkness.

"Go away!" Ian cried out from the darkness.

"I'm not going to hurt you," said Theora.

"Yeah … You'll just arrest me," Ian said with a snort.

"I'm not going to arrest you," said Theora. "I'm not a police officer." She then added, "Can we talk?"

"We have nothing to talk about."

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself."

"What for?" Ian shot back.

"Humor me."

"We have nothing to talk about," said Ian. "Even if we did, you wouldn't have a damn clue."

Theora sat down at the foot of the stairs. "Try me," she said.

"You've got a nice house, nice car, nice clothes," said Ian. "You have _NO_ idea what it's like."

"What are you talking about?" Theora asked.

"You ever been hungry? Scared?" Ian snapped. "You ever live on the streets, not knowing where your next meal's coming from?

"What do you know about me?"

Theora thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "To answer your question … I've been _ALL_ of those things," she said. "I've dropped acid in Zurich, smoked hash in Berlin, and I've done ecstasy in Barcelona.

"I've been hungry and I've lived on the streets," Theora continued. "I've slept in some strange places and with people I'd just as soon forget about."

"I've done a _LOT_ of things I regret," she concluded.

Ian stepped into the light. "You're kidding," he exclaimed. He stood six feet tall. Today, he was wearing a white tank top, dirty sneakers, and torn, dirty blue jeans.

Theora shook her head. "I wish I was," she said.

"Who are you?" Ian asked. "If you're not a cop ..."

Theora stood up and showed Ian her Network 23 ID badge. "My name is Theora Jones," she said. "I'm with Network 23. I work with Edison Carter."

"_THE_ Edison Carter?" Ian exclaimed, wide-eyed. "You work for Edison Carter?"

"I work _WITH_ Edison Carter," Theora corrected.

"You've done drugs?" Ian asked.

Theora grimaced and glanced nervously side-to-side. "I don't like talking about it … but Yes," she replied. "I haven't been that person in over ten years."

Ian pointed at Theora and exclaimed, "_YOU?_"

"Appearances can be deceiving," said Theora.

"What do you want with _ME_?" Ian asked.

"You need to turn yourself in," said Theora.

Ian turned his back to Theora. "No," he said.

"You can't stay here, it's not safe!" Theora exclaimed. "The building's condemned! It could fall any minute!"

Ian turned to face Theora. "So what if it does?" he snapped. "Not like anyone's gonna miss me!" He then added, "I'm a fucking Blank!"

"Mrs. Morgan misses you," said Theora. "So much so, she's asked her own personal lawyer to defend you."

Ian stared at Theora, thunderstruck. "She believes in me _THAT_ much?"

"It would seem so," said Theora. She then added, "The longer you're on the run, the worse it'll be for you.

"They won't stop until they find you," she said. "This is not going away."

Theora paused. "Don't disappoint her," she added quietly. "She literally has money riding on you."

Theora then inquired, "_DID_ you steal the egg?"

"Of course not!" Ian snapped. "She paid me to mow the lawn!"

"Who's 'she'?" Theora asked, framing the word "she" in air quotes.

" 'She' ... Ol' Lady Morgan," Ian replied. Thinking better of it, he added, "Mrs. Morgan."

"Tell it to the police," said Theora.

* * *

Back at Network 23, the phone rang on Murray's desk.

Murray picked up the receiver and barked, "Murray."

"It's Theora," Theora said on the other end of the line. "Ian Stewart turned himself in."

"_WHAT?!_"

"Ian Stewart turned himself in," Theora repeated.

"When did _THIS_ happen?" Murray exclaimed.

"Call Edison," said Theora. "Tell him to come police headquarters."

"Will do," said Murray. "Thanks."

Murray pressed a button on the console, hanging up the phone. He then pressed another button on the phone.

"Studio ... It's Murray," he said. "We've got Breaking News. Ian Stewart has just turned himself in."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Theora stared at Ian's police report onscreen.

_Mother's deceased, father's in jail, _she thought as she read. _In and out of foster care, on and off the streets. At last report, he was sleeping on a couch in a friend's den._

_Agnes Morgan is … or _WAS_ … the only thing keeping him out of jail. _

_He's so much like ... _I_ was ... it's scary. _

_I had Dick Best's money to fall back on. He doesn't._

"Must've b-been the l-l-life," said Max as he appeared on Theora's screen. "Every n-n-night, a-nn-another p-p-party."

"It gets old _REAL_ fast," said Theora. "Another night, another party. Sooner or later, you cease having a reason to get up in the morning."

"Find anything?" Edison asked as he approached Theora's desk.

"Something's not adding up," said Theora. "There are a lot of missing pieces.

"Tom removed the Egg on the twelfth ..." Theora stopped mid-sentence, her jaw agape.

"Theora, what it is?" Edison asked, concerned. "Ground Control to Major Tom!"

"I just realized something," said Theora, coming out of her daze. "Tom removed the Egg from the safe on the twelfth. How could he have known the Egg was missing on the fourteenth without opening the safe?

"The camera is motion-activated. Opening the safe would've triggered the camera ... which means Tom stole the Egg on the twelfth!" Theora exclaimed.

"Stole it, filed a false police report on the fourteenth, and is now trying to pin the whole thing on Ian the Blank," Edison concluded. "He's been squawking like a parrot about Ian supposedly being the thief."

"We have the Who. Now, we need the _WHY,_" said Theora.

"Money? Spite? The Morgans are going through a divorce," said Edison. "Tom's been making much ado about the Egg supposedly being worth three million credits."

"It might be an insurance value," said Theora as pressed a button on her keyboard. Bryce Lynch suddenly appeared on the viewphone.

"Yes?" Bryce asked.

"Bryce, it's Theora," said Theora. "Pull up the Morgans' financial records. See if the Egg is covered by insurance. I want to know who appraised it and if it's even genuine."

"Roger that. Bryce out," said Bryce as the viewphone disconnected.

"Fake appraisal?" Edison asked.

"Three million credits is an awful lot, even for a Faberge Egg," said Theora as she made a few keystrokes. Network 23's story archive appeared before her onscreen. "An Egg sold at Sotheby's in New York for three hundred thousand credits two years ago," she said as she read from the screen.

"Nowhere near three million," said Edison.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

"Honey, I'm worried," said Belinda. She and Tom were sitting on the sofa in Tom's beachfront house.

"About what?" Tom asked. He and Belinda were sipping glasses of chardonnay.

"About being found out," said Belinda.

Tom set his glass down on the coffee table that lay in front of them. "Now, don't you worry about a thing," he said as he cradled Belinda's chin. "I've got the Metrocops eating out of my hand. As far as they're concerned, Ian did it.

"They don't want to work. Feed them a convincing story and they'll fall for it hook, line, and sinker. After all, it's one more Blank off the street, right?"

"What about Edison Carter?"

"Pfft … forget Edison Carter," said Tom, waving his hand dismissively. "I have friends in high places at Network 23. One phone call from me and they'll make Edison go bye-bye."

"I can't help, but ..."

"But, W_HAT_?"

"But think about … what we're putting the kid through."

"Now, don't you start getting soft on me!" Tom growled. "You want to play with me, you have to be willing to do what's _necessary._

Tom then softened. "Just a few more days, we'll have our insurance money … and then we'll be on our way to Jamaica."

Belinda set her glass down on the coffee table, embraced Tom, and kissed hm on the nose. "Mmmm … I like the sound of that," she said with a giggle.

* * *

"I know this is difficult to accept, Mrs. Morgan," said the Metrocop sergeant to Agnes Morgan at police headquarters. "But he _IS_ a Blank ..."

"So?" Agnes interjected. She sat in front of the sergeant's desk wearing a gray tweed business suit with a navy blue silk blouse and beige heels. She carried a black alligator leather clutch purse.

"They'll do anything to save their own skin. Lie, cheat, steal … even kill."

"You don't know Ian," Agnes shot back. "At least, you don't know _MY_ Ian."

"We see people like Ian every day here, Mrs. Morgan," said the sergeant. "He's no different than the rest of `em."

"I refuse to stand idly by and watch an innocent seventeen-year-old boy being ground to a pulp!" Agnes protested

"What makes you so sure he's innocent?" the sergeant asked.

"He's mowed my lawn for two years," Agnes replied. "I've never known him to be anything other than an upstanding young man."

"How well do you really know him?" the sergeant asked.

"He doesn't know the combination!" Agnes exclaimed. "How could he have gotten into the safe? You yourself said there was no sign of forced entry."

"Are you _SURE_ of that?" asked the sergeant. "How well do you know him?"

"When I was a girl, we had a saying … 'You do not foul your own nest'."

"Which means … ?"

"You don't harm your own," said Agnes. "You don't bite the hand that feeds you."

"As much as I've enjoyed talking to you, I really _DO_ have work to do," said the sergeant.

Agnes stood up and turned to leave, her jaw set. "This is _NOT_ over," she said defiantly.

The sergeant shook his head as Agnes left._ Crazy broad_, he thought. _All this over a damn Blank._

_You'd have thought she was his mother._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"The appraiser is real, but the document itself is forged," said Bryce. He, Edison, and Theora were meeting in his R & D lab at Network 23.

"Explain," said Theora.

"The document was created by Belinda Warfield's younger brother, Peter," said Bryce. "He's seventeen ... a high school student ..."

"... Who's now an expert in early twentieth-century Russian antiques," said Theora sarcastically.

"He grabbed someone else's appraisal and made some changes," said Edison.

"The insurance company didn't bother to look into it," said Bryce.

"How much is the egg appraised for?" Theora asked.

"Three million credits," Bryce replied.

"We've got the makings of insurance fraud," said Edison

"There's something else," said Bryce. "About a week before the robbery, Tom put down a deposit for a storage unit ..."

* * *

It was two in the morning. Tom and Belinda walked nervously through the corridor at Johnson Storage, oblivious to the bank of TV's hanging overhead.

"I'm so excited!" squealed Belinda. "Jamaica, here we come!"

"Shhh," said Tom, silencing Belinda.

"Sorry," Belinda whispered.

Tom and Belinda arrived at the storage unit - Number Two Eighteen. Tom keyed in the combination on the keypad next to the door. The door refused to open.

"Try it again," said Belinda.

"I dunno what's wrong," Tom shot back as he tried keying in the combination again. "I have the right combination."

"You're not g-g-getting the Egg, T-T-Tom Tom," stuttered Max as he appeared in the overhead TV behind Tom and Belinda.

"Tom! It's Max Headroom!" Belinda exclaimed excitedly.

"Go away!" Tom growled to Max. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Max's image suddenly filled the entire bank of overhead TV's in the corridor. "You b-b-bastard," Max spat out in multi-channel stereo. "You're you're l-l-letting a s-s-seventeen-year-old k-kid rot in j-j-jail ... and f-f-for wh-what-t-t?

"Ss-so you and your ss-sweetie can go to_ J-J-Jamaica? _You're d-d-disgusting."

_"LEAVE ME ALONE!" _Tom cried as he frantically keyed in the combination. The door remained locked shut.

"The M-M-Metrocops are on their way," said Max. "It's over over."


End file.
